Humor in Uniform Read online

  My friend received a package from the Navy containing the civilian clothes her son was wearing when he left for boot camp. Not wanting to open the box, she put it away. This cracked up her husband, who accused her of being a sentimental old fool. “I’m not sentimental,” she shot back. “I’m realistic. His shoes, socks and underwear have been inside that box for two weeks, and I’m not going to be the one to open it!”

  — SUSAN STUCZYNSKI

  It’s Really Okay

  One evening my new husband called to have me pick him up from work. Since I had never been on the military post before, I was a little reluctant, but I agreed to attempt the task. While I drove through the base, a young soldier in his camouflage uniform stepped out onto the street. I slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting him, and the screeching tires attracted the attention of a nearby MP. I was in tears as the officer approached my car. “I didn’t see him!” I blurted out. “ Well, ma’am,“ the MP remarked, grinning at me, “that’s kind of the point.”

  — CHRISTIN SMITH

  When our son, Jimmy, went to Navy boot camp, we waited impatiently for word from him. Finally we received a postcard telling us he was doing well and we shouldn’t worry. It went on to say that he was being kept busy acclimating to a military lifestyle and that he would send a detailed letter in a couple of weeks. After reading his card a second time, however, we noticed that Jimmy had faintly underlined letters throughout the note. When the letters were combined, his hidden message read, “Help me!”

  — DONNA GRIMES

  Following an overnight flight to meet my father at his latest military assignment, my mother, eight noisy and shoving siblings, and I arrived at Rhein-Main Air Base in Germany. “Do you have any weapons or illegal drugs in your possession?” the customs agent asked my weary mother. “Sir,” she said while separating my brother and me, “if I had either of those items, I would have used them by now.”

  — JIM RISDAL

  My husband is an Army helicopter pilot, and we never seem to live in one place for very long. Typically, during a move, we stay in a hotel until we can find a permanent place to have our things delivered. Our four children enjoy this greatly, although sometimes it can be a bit confusing for them. One recent day, as we were driving down an interstate and passed a Holiday Inn, our three-year-old squeaked in excitement from the back seat. “ Look,” he exclaimed. “There’s our old house!”

  — KIMBERLY O’DONNELL

  I was in the perfume aisle of our base exchange and noticed an airman as she picked up a bottle and sniffed its contents. I told her that I particularly liked her selection. “Oh, I’m not buying any perfume,” she responded. “When I get homesick for my mom, I always come here to smell her brand of cologne.”

  — JANE W. RANDO

  * * *

  I rarely talked to my daughter, Rita, about my military experience, so it surprised me when I overheard her mention it during a phone conversation with her boyfriend. Apparently he was having a hard time adjusting to Army boot camp, and had stolen a moment to call her and complain about his tough regimen. “Look,” Rita admonished him, “if my mother can do it, then you can, too.”

  — F. O’GARA

  * * *

  My husband’s cousin married a former Marine who now works for United Parcel Service. They bought their four-year-old son two stuffed bears—one in a UPS uniform and the other in Marine garb. When the boy seemed confused, his father brought out a picture of himself in full Marine dress. “See, Connor?” he explained, pointing to the photo and then to the bear. “That’s Daddy.” Connor’s eyes went from one to the other, and then he asked in a puzzled voice, “You used to be a bear?”

  — ROBIN YEDLOCK

  While my brother was stationed overseas, his wife wrote to him daily. For an added touch, she’d always scribble little abbreviated notes on the outside of the envelopes. One day my brother received a letter with the familiar “SWL” (sealed with love) message on the envelope. He noticed that the letter was sealed with tape and chuckled as he read this notation written by a postal employee: “Love didn’t stick—resealed in Seattle.”

  — MARY ANN DAVIS

  My friend’s wife returned from a tour of duty in the Middle East. To celebrate, he decided to take her out for a night on the town. Proud of her service record, he suggested she wear her uniform. Not only did a patriotic taxi driver refuse to accept money from them, but an appreciative citizen paid for her meal at the restaurant, and the theater manager upgraded their balcony seats to the orchestra. At the end of the evening, my friend turned to his wife. “I still get credit for taking you out, right?”

  — JODIE STODDARD

  Homecoming

  After an exhausting military maneuver, our colonel collected his officers and told us, “I intend to go home now, open a bottle of wine and sit with my wife in front of the fireplace. I suggest you all do the same.” “Okay, sir,” shot back one officer. “If you don’t think your wife will mind.”

  — STEVEN W. CHAPMAN

  An Air Force pilot, I was taking a fighter jet from Utah back home to New York, so I called my wife to meet me at the base. Near the end of the flight visibility was poor, and as I began my descent my navigational electronics went dead along with my radio. I managed to find the beacon at the end of the runway and was barely able to make out the ground. Unsure of my situation, the control tower dispatched every emergency vehicle on the base to the runway with lights on and sirens blaring. Fortunately, I landed without incident and taxied to the ramp area. Having seen and heard all the commotion, my wife greeted me with a big hug and said, “Honey, you should have been here for all of the excitement!”

  — TOM ROYSTON

  After leaving the regulated life of the Navy, an old friend of mine, a retired officer, took a civilian job but had trouble getting to work on time. Finally his boss asked, “What would they have said to you in your previous job about being late?” My friend answered him, “Good morning, Admiral.”

  — SALVADOR SEPULVEDA, JR.

  Upon returning from Iraq, I received a number of commendations and medals, including the Bronze Star for meritorious achievement. Still, my daughter was unimpressed. “Who won the Silver and the Gold?” she asked.

  — KEITH ANDERSON

  My neighbor, Terry, a former high-school halfback, came home from combat duty in Afghanistan. He was excited to tell me that his unit had played a makeshift game of football. “Just don’t tell my mom,” he begged. “If she knew I was playing football she’d worry that I might reinjure my knee.”

  — MIKE CALLISON

  My friend Herb was returning home after several months aboard a Navy submarine. His wife and a crowd of people anxiously awaited the arrival of the vessel at a San Diego dock. She was so excited that she parked their car near the edge of the dock in a no-parking zone. The sub finally appeared. But it came in too fast and slammed into the end of the wharf. Fortunately no one was injured. Unfortunately, Herb and his wife had to explain to their insurance company that their car had been damaged by a runaway submarine.

  — DONALD L. HEFLIN

  My father was often away on lengthy tours of duty, leaving my mother to manage five kids by herself. While he was away we used to sneak into their room to sleep. So before shipping out one time, Dad reminded us to respect Mom’s space and sleep in our own rooms. Upon his return, as he disembarked the plane with the rest of his unit, my brother ran up to him, jumped into his arms and loudly announced, “Dad, you’re going to be so happy. While you were gone this time, nobody slept with Mom.”

  — KATHLEEN HODGE

  My husband, a war-movie buff, and my six-year-old daughter sat in front of the TV watching actual World War II footage of the unconditional surrender that ended the war with Japan. As General Douglas MacArthur and Japan’s General Umeza stood on the deck of the USS Missouri and signed doc
uments—under the watchful gaze of Allied troops—my daughter was confused. “What’s wrong?” asked my husband. Pointing to the set, she said, “Which one is John Wayne?”

  — JENNIE KELLER

  My son arrived back in the United States after fighting with the First Marine Division in Iraq. But I still couldn’t help reacting like a mom when I saw him on the base running over to some buddies to return a bayonet. “Kevin!” I shouted halfway across the base, before I could stop myself. “Don’t run with that knife in your hands!”

  — PAM HODGSKIN

  I was driving one day when I noticed a car behind me flashing its lights repeatedly. Alarmed, I pulled over, and the other vehicle stopped behind me. Thinking there must be something wrong with my car, I was shocked when an old Army buddy I hadn’t seen in 20 years stepped up and shook my hand. We reminisced for a while and then, just before we parted company, I asked him how he knew it was me driving ahead of him. “I marched behind you for years,” he said. “I’d recognize the back of your head anywhere!”

  — BEN KENT

  Supportive Spouses?

  Before my husband left for a military-training class one day, he asked me to iron his dress whites for an important inspection the next evening. Having just been married, I ironed the uniform with great zeal, keen to prove my capabilities as a Navy wife and eager for my husband to make a good impression on his superiors. When he came home the following night, he told me that he had passed his inspection and that the commanding officer had said to congratulate me. “Why?” I asked, mystified. “For ironing out the permanent creases that were supposed to be in my uniform!” he replied.

  — LYNN MUCICA

  Not long ago, a friend in the Army married a woman who was also in the service. The ceremony went splendidly, but my friend’s rather domineering mother looked grim throughout the proceedings. At the reception I remarked on this to a major, who also happened to be the couple’s commanding officer. “Have you met the bride?” he asked. After I told him I had not, he smiled, drew closer and whispered, “That was no wedding. That was a change-of-command ceremony.”

  — CHRISTOPHER WIST

  Halfway through dinner one night, our friend Jim told us of his days playing football in college as a defensive lineman. “Did you play sports in college, Mike?” his wife then asked me. “Yes,” I answered. “I was on West Point’s shooting team.” “That’s great,” she said, appropriately impressed. “Offense or defense?”

  — MIKE MALONEY

  One fall, my husband and I attended the San Diego State–Navy football game in San Diego. During halftime I went to a pay phone to check in with my kids but found a sailor in the nearest booth having a teary conversation with his sweetheart. Being a Navy wife, I knew how hard it was being separated from loved ones, so I gladly gave him room for his conversation. My sympathy subsided, however, when I heard his last heartfelt statement: “You know I’d be there with you, honey,” he said emotionally, “but I’m stuck here in Virginia.”

  — TERESA CHRISTENSON

  At Fort Riley, Kan., the soldiers’ wives were asked to bake treats for a party. My brownies did not turn out well, and I told my husband I would be embarrassed if no one ate them. As a group of soldiers filed in, however, I noticed they bypassed other goodies in favor of mine. I was flattered until I heard one soldier ask my husband, “Hey, Sarge, are these the brownies you told us we better eat, or else?”

  — ELIZABETH RADDATZ

  Faced with yet another change of bases, I had the unenviable task of packing up our two young children and all our household goods and moving to a new home—without the help of my Air Force husband. One day, after a week of complete chaos as I unpacked and made the other necessary arrangements, I heard the doorbell. When I opened the door, I found a dozen red roses and a small card from my husband. The card said, “Honey, you still move me.”

  — AUDREY L. MURPHY

  “This one? That’s my cell phone.”

  As a sergeant stationed at Fort Meade, Md., I was recommended for a promotion. I had to appear before a promotion board as part of the process, and answer questions about everything from current events to military history. Just when I thought I had successfully completed the interrogation, one first sergeant asked me, “What is the significance of March 9?” My mind raced through the possibilities, but after several tense minutes I gave up and replied, “First Sergeant, I do not know the significance of March 9.” “Too bad,” he said. “I’m sure your wife would be pleased to hear that you forgot her birthday.”

  — CWO2 THOMAS M. KANNENBERG

  When I entered the Marine Corps, we were authorized to wear only white crewneck T-shirts with our uniforms. While I didn’t always keep mine neatly folded and put away, I did separate them by quality. The newest T-shirts were used when I wore my service uniforms, the next best were for wear with utilities or flight suits, and the oldest were for sweaty jobs like mowing the grass. When I got married, my wife began to do my laundry and although she did a much better job, she didn’t separate my T-shirts. One day, after I complained that I could not find the “right” T-shirt, I came home to find them neatly folded in three stacks. They were labeled “The Good,” “The Bad” and “The Ugly.”

  — ROY D. BRYANT

  My husband, Douglas, and I were driving around Luke Air Force Base in Arizona where we had recently been stationed. In front of us was a blue military truck bearing the letters S.W.A.T. and a sign advising people to stay at a safe distance. Suddenly the truck stopped, and several soldiers jumped out. I commented to Douglas that something exciting must have happened—and we were about to witness a dramatic scene. Douglas looked at me and laughed. He explained that S.W.A.T stands for “seeds, weeds and trash.” The soldiers were assigned to keep the base clean.

  — WENDY MOORE

  During our preparation for Operation Desert Storm, I had to make sure the entire crew received immunizations. Our commanding officer, a macho guy, was the most difficult to get to sick bay. He finally showed up late one Friday afternoon. I explained to him that the shots might make him slightly feverish and cranky. “I’ll come back on Monday, then,” he replied. “Why?” I asked. “Would you rather be irritable to the crew or your wife?” “Doc,” he declared, “I’m not afraid of the crew.”

  — DAVID L. KING

  At the completion of our week-long training seminar, 40 of us Naval Reserve chaplains went to Los Angeles International Airport to catch flights home. Dressed in my chaplain uniform, I was walking to the boarding gate when the ticket collector pulled me aside. “I’ve been watching chaplains get on flights out of Los Angeles all afternoon,” she said. “Is something going on that I should know about?”

  — WILLIAM W. GASSER

  Soon after being transferred to a new duty station, my Marine husband called home to tell me he would be late— again. He went on to say that dirty magazines had been discovered in the platoon’s quarters and they had to police the area. I launched into a tirade, arguing that many men had pictures hanging in their quarters at our previous post, so his new platoon should not be penalized for something trivial. My husband calmly listened to my gripes and then explained, “Kathy, dirty magazines: the clips from their rifles had not been properly cleaned.”

  — KATHY ROZINA

  * * *

  Preparing for our wedding, I signed up for dance lessons with my fiancé, an Army sergeant at Fort Meade, Md. We were doing pretty well one day until we got to a complicated turn sequence. My fiancé lost his direction and we both stumbled. “My mistake,” my fiancé apologized.

  “As you were.”

  — A. HICKS

  * * *

  As a recruit nearing the completion of basic training at Fort Knox, I was looking forward to my leave home. After 13 weeks of sleeping on the ground, eating army food, and being tormented by drill sergeants, all I could
think of was clean sheets, Mom’s cooking and some relaxation. Arriving in Boston the day after graduation, I was greeted by my joyous family. “Just wait until you hear about the camping trip we’ve planned,” exclaimed my mother.

  — CURT J. CARLSON

  My husband’s two friends delivered a briefing while taking a course on tactical operations. When they were through, the instructor said the presentation was good, but it had failed to distinguish between engagements and battles. The teacher grew frustrated when no one in the class volunteered to explain that a battle is a series of smaller engagements. “Everyone was responsible for last night’s reading assignment,” he said. “Surely someone knows the difference.” “I know,” my husband finally offered. “An engagement is what precedes a wedding, and the battle is what follows.”

  — KAREN SOTO

  I was stationed in Germany as a furniture-supply clerk. My duties included supervising civilian moving crews when an officer changed residences. On one job, a newly promoted Army major general was moving to larger quarters, and, although they weren’t my regular men, the crew seemed to be doing well. One fellow, however, carried nothing but small items while the rest lugged the heavy furniture. I informed him in German that if he couldn’t carry his fair share, he should sit in the truck and stay out of the way. “Specialist,” the general cheerfully replied in English, “that is exactly what my wife told me.”

  — STEVE RIEPE

  Last Laugh

  My unit at Fort Bliss in Texas was detailed with guard duty. However, since live ammunition was reserved for sensitive locations, our rifles were issued with unloaded magazines. One day while we stood at attention for inspection, the officer in charge confronted a private and barked, “What is the maximum effective range of your M-16, soldier?” The hapless private glanced down at his empty rifle and replied, “As far as I can throw it, sir.”